


Maybe Never

by inasentimentalmood



Category: Emma Approved
Genre: F/M, slight-AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-25
Updated: 2014-07-25
Packaged: 2018-02-10 10:18:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2021316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inasentimentalmood/pseuds/inasentimentalmood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma's response to Alex's words in episode 64 ("Boxx Hill"), "Maybe never." Slight-AU that does not adhere to all parts of book cannon (regarding Jane/Frank, Harriet).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Harriet sits with Emma and simply lets her cry. “Oh,” she says softly as Emma breaks into sobs. Harriet doesn’t know what to do… but then she remembers how Emma helped her in the past: giving her the rest of the day off when she was distraught over Martin, looking out for her after her harrowing evening with the coyotes. Perhaps Emma just needed to get out of the office. Work pressure _had_ been getting pretty high recently. Emma reaches for a tissue to dab her cheeks and blow her nose.

Harriet sits up straighter and speaks as confidently as she can muster, “Emma, you’re taking the rest of the week off. We both are.” She extends a hand to Emma. Harriet is determined to make her life better.

\--------------

A facial, a seaweed wrap and a massage still leave Emma fairly glum. She manages to relate the details of the Boxx opening, and her conversations with Jane and Alex to Harriet, tearing up only slightly. She does her best to spin things as positively as possible. Harriet is quick to sympathize, only choosing to add, “Oh, that’s terrible,” and “I’m _so_ sorry.”

After checking her phone dozens of times hoping for a text, an email or a tweet, but receiving none, she turns the device off and turns to Harriet as their pedicures are drying. “And how are you, Harriet?” There is a sweetness and sincerity there, as if in this question Emma is apologizing. _I’m sorry I haven’t been a good friend lately_.

“Oh! Umm… The music club is going really well!” she says with a smile. “There are so many talented people out there, and I can’t believe they’re playing _my_ songs!” Harriet fidgets a bit. “I’m doing well,” she says decidedly, purposely choosing not to mention any romantic drama. Perhaps she’s the better for not having any currently in her life. “I’m very well. You know…” She becomes uncomfortable having to talk about herself even for small periods of time. “I like the color you chose,” she states, changing the subject. Emma wiggles her toes in response.

“It is nice, isn’t it?” she says in a self-congratulatory tone, but she’s still haunted by Alex’s strongly-worded goodbye to her. _When are you coming back? **Maybe never.**_ It felt so final, so cold.

“Harriet?”

“Yes, Emma?”

“Thanks for being here.”

\--------------

 That evening Emma dines with her father as usual. Before he can begin questioning her about her day, inevitably inquiring of Mr. Knightley, she cuts to the chase.

“Daddy,” she begins, wiping the corners of her mouth with a white linen napkin, “I’m thinking of making some… changes… at Emma Approved.” Mr. Woodhouse looks up from meticulously cutting his steak. She takes a deep breath. “I’d like to bring Maddy Bates on part-time as a business and finance officer.”

“But Emma, dear,” her father protests, “Is not Mr. Knightley more than adequate for the task?” Emma winces slightly.

“Alex has found another job, Daddy,” she lies, not wanting to explain their painful exchange yet again. “So, what do you think?”

“My dear, I think whatever you do shall meet my full approval,” he says dotingly, returning to his steak. “But it _is_ such a shame about Knightley. You know how fond I am of him.”

“Yes, Daddy,” she replies, trying not to let her voice quaver.

\--------------

Emma arrives at Maddie’s apartment bearing a gift—some tasteful, elegant flowers. Maddie is gracious to receive the gift and Emma into her home, though she is markedly reserved and not her usual effervescent self. Neither of the women dare to mention Boxx, or Jane, or the jams. Maddie urges Emma to make herself comfortable on the sofa next to her ailing mother.

“You have a lovely home,” Emma compliments, still feeling ashamed of her conduct and wanting to do anything to make up for it. Maddy is a generous host and brings a tray of tea with assorted cookies. This is the first time Emma has visited Maddy since, well, since she was a young little girl. Much of the furnishings are the same, making evident Maddy’s struggling financial situation, which causes Emma to feel all the more ashamed of her conduct, to have treated Miss Bates in such an unfeeling way.

“Maddy,” Emma begins, and lays out her entire business proposal. She hands Maddy a packet with a job description and benefits package. She explains it’s a part-time position, but that Jane’s old office would be hers to conduct any other additional business for her own private finance and tax clients. In her presentation, Emma wants to make clear that this is not charity offered out of pity but a business officer for a well-qualified candidate. She gives Maddy a week to consider it, then politely excuses herself.


	2. Chapter 2

On Monday, Emma decides to rearrange her office a little. Not organize, _rearrange_. For example, the items on her bookshelf could use some _rearranging_. It’s for the good of the company. A fresh start.

She’s so absorbed in ordering her binders “just-so” that she nearly jumps when he appears in the doorway, Mr. Knightley. She does her best to put on a mask of composure as she sits down on the bench beside him. She hasn’t seen or heard from him since their fateful Thursday meeting. Usually she’d welcome him there in her office, maybe tease him a little before shooing him off (“Busy, busy”) but of course now there was nothing to say.

He pulls an envelope from the chest pocket of his blazer and places it on her desk. “Resignation letter,” he states tersely, clenching his jaw. They are both tense, but outwardly she is clearly more agitated than he is. She can’t even look at him. Despite having delivered the cursed letter, he stays there in the bench with her, silent. She doesn’t know why.

“Emma, Maddy told me about the job offer.”

“Look,” she starts defensively, ready to stand up to whatever admonition or rebuke he may have for her this time. “Whatever you may think, I didn’t do it out of guilt. I know Maddy is good at what she does. That’s why I tried to help her before, at the benefit for renewable energy. I’m just putting my money where my mouth is,” she finishes with a definitive swipe of her hand.

“No, Emma, I would never—” he interjects, then pauses. His voice softens. “She was really touched. Couldn’t wait to tell me when I dropped by to visit her yesterday.”

“Oh,” is all she can say. She’s embarrassed. She feels small and emotionally fragile. She wants to guard against him, if she can, against what he might say.

“Emma, do you _know_ why I’m resigning?” he says, looking into her eyes searchingly.

Her shield is up immediately. She doesn’t answer. She attempts to anticipate his accusation, his reproach. “It’s my fault you’re leaving,” she says decidedly with a note of defeat. She clasps her hands in her lap. She doesn’t see his eyes go wide, as if caught—he believes she has deduced everything. But she continues her train of thought and it’s not what he expects.

“I am a poor leader. I lack professionalism. I meddle too much.” She’s angry now, angry at herself more than anything, and tears begin to form. She is losing Alex and it’s all her fault.

“Emma!” he says sharply to snap her out of her self-loathing. “That’s not—”

“Then why are you leaving?!” she bursts out in a moment of vulnerability, daring to turn toward him and look him in the eye. Her words seem to stick to the air between them.

He tries to strike up his nerve. “I can’t—” he starts strongly, then thinks better of it and looks away. Despite his inarticulateness, she is now determined to get an answer.

“Tell me the truth. We may not be business partners anymore,” she says with a pained expression, “but we _are_ friends. Tell me,” she urges, while inwardly steeling herself for his reply.

“Friends!” he repeats, almost bitterly. “That’s rich.” She’s surprised by his outburst.

“What do you mean?” Concern crosses her face. Surely she hasn’t lost his friendship, too!

He looks at her. “I’m… I’m scared, Emma,” he says candidly and somewhat hesitantly as she blinks rapidly in response. None of this is making sense to her. “I don’t want to—”

“Mr. Knightley!!!” she exclaims somewhat hysterically, not fully comprehending but starting to.

He continues. “I was mad at you, I yelled at you, I _left_ you,” he says with increased agitation and regret, for it is now _his_ turn to be angry with himself. “Not exactly the best way to show a girl you’re in love with her,” he concludes with self-deprecation and a wan smile. Her mouth opens wide in shock. “I’m sorry,” he says, but his apology is more like a question, wondering if she will forgive him. Afraid of what she will say. Her expression, though shocked, is unreadable.

“What did you say?!” she demands in a high whisper, fiercely.

“I said—”

“What?!” She interrupts again, incredulous. It was a rhetorical question. Emma is just buying time to process being absolutely blindsided by a confession of love from… Alex Knightley! The past ten minutes have been so tense, so _in_ tense, that she doesn’t know what to do with all of her high-strung emotions. Emma Woodhouse is at a loss for words.

Suddenly, most inappropriately, most strangely… she begins to laugh. What begins as a chuckle, rolls into a giggle, transforms into full-out guffaws. Meanwhile Alex looks on, heart in hand, bewildered.

She holds her stomach with her right hand, placing her left on Alex’s shoulder. He raises his eyebrows in question, waiting for her to shed some light. Her eyes are sparkling with mirth. They settle on Alex.

“You’re in love with me,” she says with wonder. He looks at her somewhat warily.

“Well yes,” he begins exasperatedly, but she cuts him off with a kiss. A quick, happy, delighted kiss. Now it’s his turn to laugh, suddenly bashful.

Emma hasn't felt this way before. Maybe never.


End file.
